


The Iron Fist and the Velvet Glove

by accol



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad and Nate only get a few hours together to refuel before returning to their dark lives of killing. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Iron Fist and the Velvet Glove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samescenes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samescenes/gifts).



> Based on fictionalized portrayals in the HBO miniseries _Generation Kill_. Written for a [prompt](http://combat-jack.livejournal.com/42988.html?thread=1224940#t1224940) by [samescenes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/samescenes) at the YAGKYAS 2011 Good Cookies thread. Loosely inspired by "Brutality" by Black Box Recorder.

  


Good, old fashioned brutality. Classic, barbaric, quick to the point assassinations. He was efficient, well paid, and at the top of his craft. But the job... the acts... what he did, what he perpetrated... it ached deep and hollow in his gut from time to time. Tonight was one of those times, and the song at the bottom of his bottle of whiskey was calling him back to this week’s motel room.   
  
Brad ditched the generic four-door in the airport parking garage and got a cab back to the motel. The ride was too long and too quiet. The bloody images and the sounds were spinning in his mind. Perhaps this was the time they’d drag him down into the abyss. He just wanted to deaden it, to put one foot in front of another and carry on.   
  
He stood outside of the pallid yellow pool of streetlight when he handed the cabbie some cash, always careful to keep a low profile. He was paid to dissolve into the darkness when everything was done.   
  
When he turned, Brad’s attention immediately snapped across to his motel room door. He walked briskly across the parking lot, his sidearm heavy under his jacket and his heartbeat loud in his ears. He ran a hand over the sleek, low-riding, black sedan parked out front of room 2B; a caress. That chopped car could mean only one thing: Fick was back from Chicago.   
  
He opened the door, hand wrapped around the ready butt of his gun, and met the barrel of another. They locked eyes. It was really him. Their gun hands relaxed and Nate backed into the dim room. Brad followed, quietly pressing the door closed. The cut of Nate’s bare abdomen drew Brad’s eye. Red neon flashed in through a gap in the curtain and painted his skin. Brad forgot about the whiskey and the abyss.  
  
Nate’s second gun was taken apart on a chamois on the cracked veneer of the table. His shirt and a leather jacket Brad hadn’t seen before were tossed across the back of one of the flimsy chairs.   
  
“Chicago didn’t take as long as planned,” Nate said in way of a hello. “Thought I’d get back.”  
  
The ‘get back to you’ was left off the end of Nate’s comment, but Brad heard it. Brad nodded, already shedding his coat and piece.   
  
“How long do we have?” Brad asked. He sat on the bed to undo his boots, reining himself until he got this one piece of information.   
  
Nate was quiet. Only the clank of his belt buckle rang out. Brad looked up and met Nate’s eyes. They were tired like Brad’s.   
  
“Not long.”

Brad sighed, resigned. “Ok,” he said, reaching out for Nate and feeling the last of that darkness recede for a few precious moments. “However long."

They fell together onto the bed. The timer was counting down on them as they kissed. It was never long enough. Tonight’s kisses were deep and heated, like they’d be able to absorb each other as fuel for their long days apart in the darkness. Brad shoved the covers aside and the cool smoothness of the sheets shocked his senses. Every touch of Nate’s warm hands on his shoulders, his wrists, his hip scorched with desperation on Brad’s skin. He and Nate only ever got a few days together; sometimes only hours. They always made it count.   
  
“Over,” Nate said, sliding underneath Brad and rolling Brad on top. “I need to feel you,” he whispered, his voice rough with long nights and emotion. “I need to feel you.”  
  
Brad let his whole weight relax onto Nate’s body after pulling the covers over them. He ran his hands softly down Nate’s sides, memorizing the angles and curves again with just the lightest touch of his fingers. Down he reached, past the swell of Nate’s ass and the long line of Nate’s thigh. He pulled up on the back of Nate’s knee so he could slide between Nate’s legs.   
  
“Let me,” Brad said.   
  
He looked up to see Nate’s eyes looking down at him as he slid lower. Nate’s lips fell open, wet and inviting. Brad reversed his southward course to kiss him again, hotter this time. Their tongues pushed and slid against one another. Brad’s hand moved down the back of Nate’s leg to cup Nate’s balls. He pressed the pad of a finger to Nate’s hole. Nate gasped into Brad’s mouth and nodded.  
  
Brad kissed his way down Nate’s chest, running the flat of his tongue over each of Nate’s nipples and following the wetness with a hot breath of air. Nate wrapped a hand around the back of Brad’s neck and the solid pressure drove Brad forward. He needed this. They both needed this connection to stay above water.  
  
Nate’s cock was hard under Brad’s chest. Nate gasped as Brad slid lower, the light friction making his fingers curl hard into the hair at the nape of Brad’s neck. The sharp tug was all Brad needed to throw himself at Nate’s dick. He swallowed it down, rubbing his nose into the curls of Nate’s hair. The musky scent made Brad’s mouth water. He pulled off, sucking air over Nate and greedily drinking in the sounds of Nate’s impatient hissing. Down again Brad went. He reveled in the firmness pushing to the back of his mouth; the feel of Nate across his tongue was making his own cock pulse.  
  
Brad pulled Nate’s legs over his shoulders and sucked on Nate’s balls. Nate groaned when Brad pulled slowly, and moaned at the loss as Brad pulled off.   
  
“Up,” Brad grunted.   
  
Nate pulled his knees up high and the cover fell off of them, forgotten and unneeded. Brad knelt, leaning back on his heels, supporting Nate’s back on his thighs and pulling Nate’s hips high.   
  
“Fuck yes, Brad. Oh shit,” Nate exhaled as Brad looked down at him and ran his tongue from Nate’s tailbone to the base of his cock.   
  
A smile finally broke onto Brad’s face. “More?”  
  
Nate laughed, “I can reassemble that sidearm in four seconds. You better not stop.”  
  
Brad gripped Nate hard, his ass to Brad’s chest, showing him that Brad wasn’t about to let him get away, gun or no gun. Brad moved teasingly slow, still smiling, tongue darting out between his teeth but not quite connecting with Nate’s skin.

“Brad!” Nate squirmed in Brad’s grip. One of his hands reached up to pull at his cock impatiently.   
  
Brad bent Nate over harder, pushing him onto his upper back, and finally thrust his tongue against Nate’s hole.  
  
Nate groaned and relaxed into Brad’s touch. He clawed to grab Brad’s arms or waist or whatever he could to pull him down harder. Brad smiled again and pushed his tongue against Nate’s pucker. It yielded slowly, letting Brad fuck deeper. His nose brushed Nate’s balls with every movement and Brad gasped huge breaths of Nate’s scent, memorizing it.   
  
Quickly Nate was reduced to constant moans as Brad’s tongue went deeper. Brad shoved Nate’s ass cheeks apart and reached his hand around to grip Nate’s cock. Nate swatted at Brad’s hand.   
  
“Focus.”  
  
Brad laughed again. He loved Nate like this, all disorganized orders and lust. Brad’s cock was hard against Nate’s back, waiting patiently for his turn.   
  
He licked deeper and Nate started pumping his fist on his cock. Brad moved in time with Nate, pulling him close and savoring the erratic shudders of Nate’s breathing.   
  
“Enough,” Nate gasped. He pushed his hips hard to the left and rolled out of Brad’s softening grip. Nate planted himself on all fours on the bed. “Lube is here.” Nate pulled a tube out from underneath one of the bed’s pillows with a sly grin. “Hurry the fuck up.”  
  
Brad didn’t need telling twice. He’d been fantasizing about this for almost three weeks. He pushed in to the heat of Nate’s ass and crumpled over Nate’s back with the feeling.   
  
“Fuck, you always feel so...”   
  
Brad started a slow rhythm with his cheek planted on Nate’s shoulder. He curled into Nate’s body, and his breath was hot on Nate’s neck. Everything else ceased to exist, not even the darkness, when they were together.   
  
Much later, Brad woke up with the pale light of dawn streaming in through the crack between the curtains. Nate was stirring; shifting to the edge of the bed.  
  
Brad’s hand shot out and grabbed Nate’s. “Where?”  
  
“Kansas City,” Nate said softly.   
  
“How long?”  
  
“Not very. Meet you in Vegas?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brad said, relieved that Nate would come to him again. But the abyss was already creeping back with every step Nate took across the gritty motel carpet toward the door.

 

 


End file.
